


Inheritance

by themantlingdark



Series: Inheritance [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 18:52:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themantlingdark/pseuds/themantlingdark
Summary: Loki's ill treatment at home affects his marriage to Asgard's heir.





	Inheritance

1 The Price

 

Thor has known of it since he was a boy. He is promised to the third son of Laufey. When he's small he thinks nothing of it. The words have no weight to him yet.

But then his body begins to grow and change. His understanding of the world expands, and he's frightened for the first time in his life.

He goes to speak with his father.

“Am I still to marry the prince of Jotunheim?” Thor asks.

“Aye,” is Odin's answer.

“Is there no other way?”

“No.”

And Thor is at that reckless and wild age. He does every dangerous thing he can think of. He wrestles wolves. Rides on the backs of dragons. Steals scales from the soft bellies of sea serpents. He breaks his bones, burns his skin, and boils his blood with venom.

When Thor has recovered from his latest flirtation with death, two royal guards drag him from the infirmary to the the foot of the throne.

“You foolish ungrateful thing,” Odin barks. “Have you no respect for the life your mother gave you?”

“It was never mine,” Thor shouts. “You took it from me. Gave it to a stranger as soon as I was born. You turned me into a peace treaty.”

“You selfish, cowardly, ignorant-”

The doors to the throne room burst open with an airy boom and Odin's mouth slams shut, teeth clicking. Thor can see what look like threads stitching his father's lips together – his mother's magic. Odin's eye goes wide when he struggles to speak. And then Frigga is beside her son.

“He needs rest yet,” she says softly, arching an eyebrow at the king.

And Thor's eyes go wide. His mother can be terrifying. She never raises her voice. But she changes. A coldness seeps into her tone. And she seems almost to swell - a shadow surrounds her and looms over you when you've drawn her ire.

She takes Thor to her rooms and sits beside him on a soft sofa, stroking his hair.

“You must be more careful with yourself,” she murmurs. “Don't break your mother's heart.”

Thor hangs his head and nods, weeping silently.

“And you must forgive your father, for the fault is mine.”

Thor's head jerks up and he gapes.

“Mother?”

“It was when I was pregnant with you,” she begins. “A message came from Jotunheim. Farbauti wished to see me. He was with child. As far along as I was – four months – and there was no outward sign, but he could feel the child in his belly, and he feared for it. It is a harsh realm. If a babe doesn't measure the length of its father's forearm at birth, it is left to the ice to die. And Farbauti knew his child would be too small. Would be taken from him. So he asked for my help, and I gave it to him.

“Farbauti couldn't let Laufey know he was behind it. Odin acted on his behalf, at my request. Your father met with Laufey and told him I was pregnant, then claimed that he'd dreamt Farbauti was, too. He said that it seemed auspicious to make a match of two children who would be the same age. He asked the king to promise the child to you in exchange for the return of the Casket, so that the marriage might forge a lasting peace between our realms. Laufey agreed. He had Helblindi and Byleistr already, so he needed no heir. And Farbauti's fear was well founded: Loki was tiny when he was born. But he belonged to you, so Laufey had to let him be.”

“Mama,” Thor whispers.

“It's a small price to pay, is it not? For the life of a babe?”

Thor nods and tears spill down his cheeks.

Frigga dries them with a handkerchief and tips up his chin.

“It is years away yet, sweetheart. In the meantime, make yourself worthy of the hand you never had to win. Become the man you would hope to find beside you, for your husband's sake.”

“I will,” Thor says.

The years pass peacefully.

Thor grows reckless again, but this time it stems from hopefulness and optimism rather than sorrow and bitterness.

He grows tall and broad. Handsome and joyful.

He loves his friends and they love him.

In a month he'll be married.

Excitement and trepidation swirl within him. The years have been calm and pleasant, and this union will upend his life. He welcomes the change. But it's nothing he could fully prepare for. He asked his friends to share the details of their dalliances without completely discarding discretion. And they were happy to impart what they learned, for they couldn't imagine what it would be like to have your love promised away by the rulers of realms - to be engaged before you'd even drawn breath.

A new room is readied in an old tower. Silks are fitted. Announcements are made.

Frigga calls Thor to her rooms a week before the wedding. They sit side by side and she smiles at him and takes his hand, squeezing it. Thor's belly is full of butterflies, tingling and relentless.

“I would make a trade with you,” she says, and Thor nods, for he trusts her. “Knowledge for promises.”

He nods again.

“I know this fate seems strange to you,” she says. “But it is no less in your favor. You have no brothers. Asgard needs you. So you will remain at home. You will soon gain a husband, and your father and I will gain a son. But Loki will be torn from those he loves. Ripped from a world of ice and shadow and silence and thrust into one of light and heat and noise. And that is the least of his troubles. His life has never been an easy one. The elders of his realm, his sire included, would see him dead. His brothers love him dearly, and Farbauti would do anything for him. Farbauti is fearsome. Larger even than Laufey. He has kept his son safe all these years, and soon he'll deliver him into your protection.”

Thor nods.

“He has been all but caged. Hidden from many of his own people for his safety. His features are a relic of an old infidelity. Laufey never knew his sire, and he has foolishly punished his son for it.”

Frigga turns and grips Thor's shoulders, squeezing them gently.

“Ready to make your promises?” she asks softly, and he nods.

“You are never let on that you know these things. Never to use his past to score points against him. Never to speak with the purpose of wounding him. Never to harm so much as a hair on his head. He is yours to care for, and it will not always be easy. Especially in the beginning. But it must be so. Will you do these things for me?”

“I will,” Thor says, and his mother beams at him and kisses his cheeks.

“Do you remember your favorite mare?” she asks, and Thor blushes. “That wicked chestnut beast. How she was forever trying to scrape you from her back with the trunks of trees and the posts of fences?”

“Aye,” Thor laughs, “But if you could goad her into a gallop there was no swifter steed save Sleipnir.”

Frigga smiles, nodding.

“And you never lost your temper with her. You just laughed when she succeeded in tossing you to the ground.”

Thor chuckles, remembering.

“Find that patience again, darling,” she murmurs. “It will serve you well.”

“I shall,” he says, and kisses her.

The party from Jotunheim arrives the evening before the wedding. They are ushered off to their rooms before Thor even knows they're on the realm. He isn't allowed a glimpse of his future spouse.

The ceremony takes place in the city square.

The two families gather at opposing sides of the space and will meet in the center.

“How do I look?” Thor whispers to Sif as they stand, wide-eyed and waiting.

“Like a god,” she says. “And that's the third time you've asked me. I'm running out of answers.”

“Sorry,” Thor laughs, ducking his head.

“Relax,” she soothes, and shoves him.

A horn is sounded and their spines stiffen.

Their parents walk before them. Thor still can't see Loki. Farbauti and Laufey are enormous and grow larger with every step the parties take toward each other. Thor tries not to stare.

When they arrive at the center, their parents part.

Sif flanks Thor, bearing his standard: a red eagle.

Helblindi and Byleistr loom behind Loki and bear his emblems: swirling emerald runes and a crown of ice.

Thor smiles at the handsome face before his own, but his gesture is not returned. He keeps smiling anyway.

The princes bow low to each other.

Frigga and Farbauti take their sons by the hands and link them.

Loki's hand is smooth and cold in Thor's, but it doesn't burn him as it would if he were other than a god. Most would be scorched, and it occurs to Thor that Loki will have few sources of affection in this realm. He tells himself to be generous with his touches so that Loki is never left wanting.

“Will you take the man before you as your king until the end of your days?” Frigga and Farbauti ask in unison.

“I will,” the princes vow.

Their families bind their hands and whisper blessings. Odin speaks a spell and the wrappings melt into the skin of their wrists.

It is winter in Asgard. They wanted their guests to be as comfortable as possible.

Thor calls a storm and Farbauti turns the rain into snow. Children giggle and shriek, playing in this rarely-seen weather, watching the lightning illuminate the flakes.

The princes are seated at the head of a table for the feasting, but there are hundreds of tables, and they aren't so fully the center of attention any more. They are both relieved.

Loki has said nothing. His brothers sit beside him, chatting happily and leaning down to nudge him and share their jests. He smiles up at them, but Thor sees sadness in his eyes. Loki silently sips his wine and eats his dinner. He looks tired, but beautiful.

Thor can't take his eyes off of him.

His hair is glossy black and falls about his face in soft arcs. His eyes are large and match the shade of red Thor wears into battle. The blue of his skin is the same as Thor's eyes. The bones of his face are strong and sharp, but his cheeks are round and perky. His body is lithe and firm. He wears soft leathers, thick furs, and a small fortune in gold. Chains of it twine around his neck, wrists, and ankles. They hang over the curves of his ears. Cuffs cover his upper arms.

Thor wants to touch everything he sees.

He keeps his hands to himself, but his excitement sets his eyes sparkling and lifts the corners of his mouth in a smile.

He has a lovely body to hold to his own at last.

It's a joy Thor had seldom allowed himself to ponder in any depth, knowing he had ages to wait. But now the day is here. He won't wake alone in the morning. His mother was right: fate has favored him.

“I can't thank you enough for this,” Thor says, leaning in. “I know it is no small thing that you have given me. My parents are grateful to have gained a son in you. I've always longed for a brother and here you've given me three. I am your servant - never hesitate to ask me for anything you need.”

Byleistr overhears Thor's words and leans over to clap him on the back. Thor grins up at his enormous new brother and they clink their tankards together.

The party slowly disperses. The guests go off to the rooms that have been readied for them. They're sleepy with food and drink.

The newlyweds climb the stair to their tower. Half of the windows in their room face north, and Thor hopes the cool breeze coming in off of the sea will be pleasant to Loki.

“Shall we bathe?” Thor asks, intending to do so whether his spouse joins him or not.

“Certainly,” Loki smiles.

He undoes the clasp at his collarbones and removes his fur cloak, setting it in Thor's waiting hands. Thor wanders off to drape it over a form in the closet and to pet it secretly. He's fairly certain it's wolf, but it's from a specimen larger than any he's seen on Asgard.

When he comes back he sees a tray covered in gold sitting on the table. Loki hands him a stack of clothes and then spins on his heel, walking across the hall to the bath. Thor puts his husband's things away, undresses hastily, and hurries off after him.

Loki has already set the water running and is crouching by the pool, swirling his fingers in it. Thor stares at the bones of his spine and wants to feel his finger bounce down them like a wheel over cobblestones. Loki stands and steps down into the water before Thor has worked up the nerve to try it.

Thor squeaks and then laughs as he joins Loki in the bath: the water is only a few degrees above freezing.

Thor smiles, glad Loki is making himself at home, and goes about his bathing. Loki scowls and washes himself methodically.

They dry off and make their way back to the bedroom bare-skinned. Loki leads. Thor watches the shifting curves of his husband's backside and thinks he could easily spend the next century acquainting himself with the pert little hemispheres.

Warmth coils in his belly and a hundred honeyed thoughts swim through his head.

After his mother had told Thor of his future-husband's past, she took him to her library and sat him down beside a table piled with books. There were hundreds of little threads peeking out from the edges of the pages, marking passages for him to read.

Some were texts on Jotun anatomy, and Thor was glad at their frankness.

But most of them were histories and poetry.

Tales of famous pairs were recounted with words so beautiful it seemed to him there was some seidr in them. He sat enthralled. There were dazzling acts of chivalry and sacrifice. Partings of such sadness that Thor wept. And it finally occurred to him that to love anyone with great depth is to risk heartbreak – that time severs all bonds.

Some of the poems were so romantic and unflinchingly erotic that Thor blushed throughout his reading and thanked the Norns that his mother had told him to lock the door behind her when she left. He hadn't understood why at the time, but sitting in her library with an erection that threatened the structural integrity of his trousers, he was grateful for her foresight.

Loki climbs into the bed and lies on his back, not bothering to cover himself with a sheet.

It's probably sweltering to him in here still, Thor thinks, though it is midwinter and all the windows are open.

Thor snuffs out the torches and lies down on his side facing his husband, looking across the pillow at his face.

He's not sure where to start. A kiss would be lovely.

A soft press of yielding lips.

But he doesn't want to steal one while the giant's eyes are closed.

Loki's hands are resting protectively over his belly. Thor raises his right hand and sets it over Loki's slim fingers.

Loki's eyes snap open.

“My life may be yours, but this body belongs to me,” Loki says, and Thor takes his hand away.

“Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I meant no offense. Please, forgive me,” Thor breathes.

Loki closes his eyes and says nothing.

Thor lies on his back as his heart hammers in his breast.

I'm a fool, Thor thinks. We're as good as strangers. What was I doing?

He resolves to earn this man's affections.

In the morning they dress and breakfast with their families.

Afterward, the party from Jotunheim prepares to leave. Laufey walks away with the barest nod of his head and Thor's brow twists at this. Farbauti kneels and bends to hold his son tight to his chest. Thor can see Loki's head shaking a constant stream of no no no into his father's breast.

Helblindi and Byleistr wrap their brother up in fierce hugs.

“Visit us soon,” Thor says, and Loki nods his agreement. 

“Shall I show you around your city?” Thor asks.

“I wish to be alone,” Loki says, and ascends the stairs to their rooms.

Thor can't blame him. He has endured an onslaught of attention and preparations for the last few weeks, and assumes Loki has suffered the same. And Loki's parting from his family was agony for Thor to see, so he can't imagine the toll it must have taken on his husband. He leaves Loki to it and goes off to spar with his friends.

“How goes your honeymoon?” Fandral asks.

“He wouldn't touch me with yours,” Thor says, and they laugh. “We are strangers still, but it seems we have the rest of our lives to remedy that.”

When Thor returns to the tower that night there's strange man sitting on the bed, coaxing little flurries of snow from his fingertips and sending them spinning through the air between his hands. It takes Thor a moment to recognize his husband. His skin has gone pale and the pretty raised patterns on it have vanished.

“Are you all right?” Thor asks.

“I couldn't endure this heat in that skin,” Loki explains, and Thor nods.

“You look lovely still,” Thor says, and Loki frowns.

“Is there anything you need?” Thor asks.

“No.”

“Shall we go to supper?”

“May we dine in private?”

“Of course.”

They eat in their room.

Thor tries to coax his partner into conversation, but Loki's responses are laconic and Thor soon lets him be.

They take another cold bath together. Loki slides back into his own skin as they soak in the water and Thor smiles at the sight.

“Shall we walk through the realm tomorrow?” Thor asks.

“I'd rather not,” Loki says looking pointedly at Thor's body, and Thor wonders if Loki has taken a shine to the idea of a honeymoon. “I've seen more than enough of your tiny furry people and your bleached and messy realm.”

Thor nods and carefully closes his mouth to stop its gaping.

Loki climbs from the bath and goes to bed.

It had never occurred to Thor that he might be ugly.

His body has served him well, and his mother is beautiful - to deny his own beauty would be a slight to hers.

But beauty is relative.

Loki grew up in a world of giants, and though Loki is small, those counted handsome in his realm are not. The Jotnar have no hair. Their dark blue skin is firm and patterned.

Thor and Asgard are everything Frost Giants and Jotunheim are not. And there is little Thor can do about it.

Thor wears nightclothes where before he slept in his skin, hoping not to offend his husband's sensibilities any more than necessary.

He checks to see if his spouse needs anything, but Loki tells him he's more than capable of taking care of himself, and to stop asking after him as though he's a child.

Thor takes to bathing with his friends in the palace baths after riding and sparring. Shaves his face every day and pulls his hair back. Wears high-necked tunics. Puts out the lamps on his way to bed. Eats in the dining hall and brings breakfast back for Loki. Studies in silence in the library. Goes for long rides alone and spends hours lying in tall grass and watching tiny delicate insects make their way up and down the blades. 

He hungrily soaks up rays of the sun on his face as the breath of the breeze ruffles his hair. He calls storms and lets the lightning shoot through his nerves and crackle over his skin, spilling from his fingertips and extending him out into the atmosphere for fractions of seconds that feel like centuries. He flies through the rain, feeling the water run down his neck, licking him like an animal. Grins at the crystalline texture of the clouds tickling his cheeks.

Farbauti, Helblindi, and Byleistr visit. They happily join Thor on the tour of the realm he offers and Loki can't stay in the palace without looking like an ass, so he sees this strange world at last.

Thor and his brothers get along well. Loki must grudgingly admit that the little yellow creature is stronger than he looks, and his exuberance is infectious.

Farbauti steals away with his son as they all walk through an old wood.

“Is he treating you well?” Farbauti whispers.

“He is irreproachable.”

“What's troubling you? You've not spoken ten words to him. You won't even look at him.”

“He's... Aesir.”

“Aye. You've always known that.”

“He's short, warm, hairy-”

“Hush. Is he kind?”

“Always,” Loki sighs and Farbauti huffs.

Loki had wanted to lie, but his father always knows when he's doing it. He can fool his brothers, but never his dam.

Loki's family returns to Jotunheim.

Thor can't help but notice his husband is even sadder than usual afterward.

He watches as Loki stares out the window for hours. Loki doesn't even notice when Thor walks up and puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Is there aught I can do?”

“No,” Loki says, and shrugs Thor's hand away.

Thor decides that the realm will be his bride.

She never scorns his touch or shies from his face.

Sometimes he drops like a stone, straight down into the sea until he can feel the weight of it pressing against every inch of him, embracing him and holding him with power and vastness and chaos he can barely comprehend. Or he swims along the shallow edges of lakes so that the seaweed can caress him. Or he anchors himself to the bed of a stream with Mjolnir and lets the water move over him until he spills, his held breath heightening the tension in his nerves, winding his release up tightly, letting the river rip it from him with its relentless fingers.

On the rare occasions when they're awake and alone together, Loki torments his spouse, slinking naked through their room, slowly combing his hair, taking long pulls from cups of water and licking his lips.

Thor can't tear his eyes away. If this is all he's to have of his husband, he won't let it go to waste.

“If only you were taller,” Loki says. “Or stronger. Firmer. Darker. Beautiful. If only you were anything other than what you are.”

And Thor will clench his jaw and count backwards from three thousand by increments of twenty-seven until he's asleep.

Thor grows formal and distant. And Loki should welcome it. He's been pushing him away long enough. This is progress, which is akin to victory.

And yet.

It makes him feel sick to his stomach.

Every act of cruelty Loki has dealt to Thor throughout their marriage has been met with kindness and apologies.

Loki has never felt so impotent before in all his life.

He needs Thor to hate him the way he needs to hate Thor. But he has failed: Thor will never give Loki just cause for hate, and he will never hate Loki. There is something in this little blond being that refuses to break. It won't even bend.

Loki plans to dash himself to pieces on it. It's likely the best he can do.

Loki is staring absently out the window one afternoon when he sees Thor talking to Frigga in the gardens below.

He sees his husband drop to his knees in front of her, leaning forward and resting his forehead against her leg, shaking his head, shoulders heaving while she runs her fingers through his hair.

She crouches and coaxes his chin up. Says something to him and wipes his eyes.

He nods and she kisses his cheeks and then he grins, pushing her shoulder back with a finger, upsetting her balance. Loki sees her eyes go wide as she tips over and falls back onto the grass. Thor darts forward and digs his fingers into her sides and Loki can hear her squeals of laughter and shouts of no!

She grabs Thor by the ears and pushes her thumbnails into the lobes until he shouts and holds his hands up in surrender, flopping down beside her on the lawn.

Loki watches them talking for hours. Hears laughter drifting up to his ears, the sound rising and falling with the breeze.

He misses Farbauti. They spent many days like this, hidden in courtyards or odd corners of the palace, teasing each other and talking of their dreams.

Thor is as kind as ever. Polite and thoughtful. He doesn't break the promises he made to his mother. Their anniversary comes and Thor gives Loki lovely gifts. Gorgeous knives. Glittering jewels. A sleek saddle he had made and a beautiful bay to put it on.

In their room that evening Loki catches Thor's eyes sweeping over his form and sneers at him.

“Do you think your keyhole of a quim could quarter a Jotun cock? You'd be cut in half,” Loki snarls, and then his eyes go wide at what he's said and he all but runs from their room.

Thor sits there, stunned.

Surely Loki knows he has no quim. And he's seen Loki naked – his proportions are nothing Thor's body couldn't accommodate.

Loki doesn't come back that night.

In the morning Thor is ripped from his room by his father's seidr and spirited to the throne.

“Loki has gone to Jotunheim,” Odin says, and Thor cocks his head, confused. “He is not safe there,” Odin warns.

“But the realms are at peace,” Thor says. “That is why we wedded, is it not?”

“The elders there have no interest in that. Farbauti and his brothers shielded Loki from the realities of that realm to spare his heart, but they are not with him now. If he happens upon any Jotnar of my generation they will tear him apart.”

Odin calls Thor's armor to his body and his hammer to his hip and then sends him to the Bifrost.

Heimdall is chipping ice off of his legs with his sword. Thor groans.

“I'm sorry, gatekeeper. I need you to send me after him.”

Heimdall glowers, but does as Thor asks.

Thor hurtles through the Bifrost.

He usually loves it. The roar and the flight and the colors. But today it fills him with dread and scrapes at nerves that have already worn raw.

His feet hit the hard ice of Jotunheim.

He doesn't know where to begin. The rocks and mountains make it hard to see far in any direction, and the wind has blown away any chance of tracking his husband by scent or prints.

He lets his hammer take him up in the hope that he may see some sign.

He's studied enough maps of the realm to know how to find the palace, and he can only assume that that's where Loki went, but it is a long way from the Bifrost site.

Towers loom in the distance. Thor sees specks on the ground. At first he thinks they're boulders, but then they change formation slightly and he realizes they're Jotnar.

He dives with his hammer.

Loki is almost at the palace, but there are three huge frost giants surrounding him. A dozen have already fallen to Loki's knives, disemboweled, and Thor is impressed by the skills of the warrior he married. The ground is dark and shining with blood.

Thor sees Loki charge at the largest of his attackers, calling a long thin column of ice to his hand and using it to vault himself up to the giant's chest, where he sinks a blade under the sternum and uses his weight to drag it down through the muscles of the abdomen. Loki turns the blood and entrails to ice as they fall, and the chill fills the giant's chest.

For all their frost on the outside, the Jotnar are as warm-blooded as the Aesir within.

The last of Loki's pursuers fall to a hammer to the skull and a bolt of lightning. The latter draws Loki's attention when the carcass starts smoking and hissing on the ice.

“No,” Loki gasps. “What are you doing here?”

“Father sent me. Are you injured?”

“Go back to Asgard.”

Thor sees Laufey approaching over Loki's shoulder and he bows. Loki's eyes go wide and he turns around.

“Father-” Loki starts.

“Are we never to be rid of you?” Laufey says to his son, tilting his head to look down on him.

“I came to see my brothers,” Loki says

“Their sentiment for you poisons their minds. The pallid whelp beside you is the sibling you deserve. The little red witch riding the handle of his hammer. Still, he's stronger than you. You've married above your station. Found another brother to fight your battles for you-”

“Enough,” Thor growls.

He grabs Loki by the waist before he can object and spins Mjolnir, taking them back to the Bifrost site.

Heimdall has been watching for them. Thor doesn't even have to call before they're pulled into the light and landing on the bridge.

Thor flies them back to the palace, setting them down on the balcony of their tower.

Loki staggers into the room and Thor follows.

“I can never show my face to him again,” Loki gasps. “He thought me weak and now I've proven him right. Why did you come? I will never live down this shame.”

“What shame?”

“You fought on my behalf.”

“You're my husband. I can't let you fight alone,” Thor roars.

“When my people fight each other it is alone and to the death-”

“That was not one on one, and why would your people fight each other?”

“To keep the weak from wearing down the strong.”

“Oh, Norns help me,” Thor shouts and his face twists in anger and disgust.

“He was right,” Loki grits out through his tears. “I'm even weaker than you. And you make me weaker every day.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have poisoned me,” Loki snarls, grabbing Thor by the throat and slamming him against the wall. “You made me want the things he always said I would. Your pale beauty. Your kindness. Your warmth. Your softness,” Loki says, knocking Thor's head against the stone for emphasis after every accusation. “Each mock of his took root and grew. And you fed them all. I am everything he feared I'd be.”

Loki's fingers close tight around Thor's throat and Thor feels warmth bloom in his left side.

When he looks he sees that Loki has plunged a knife up under his ribs. He recognizes the hilt. It's one of the weapons he gave Loki for their anniversary.

Thor sinks to the floor as Loki strides from the room.

  
  
  


2 The Cost

 

Frigga is ascending the stair as Loki is descending. She catches him by the hair as he tries to slip by her side and she yanks his head down sideways in front of her own. Her seidr swells around him and he feels like a bird hypnotized by a snake.

“Oh, no no no, my son,” she says, and her voice is as cold and sharp as steel against his skin. “You will look long and hard at what you've done to him and you will mend what you have broken.”

It takes every morsel of Loki's fortitude just to nod his head.

They climb back up to the room and Loki's eyes go wide when Frigga hauls Thor up from the floor like he's a mere child in her arms.

Thor is murmuring wet and ragged apologies into his mother's neck as she shushes him and backs him toward their dining table, whispering the spell to strip his armor away and laying him down.

She braces the wound and pulls the knife from Thor's side. The blade is long and thin and sharp, bright red with her boy's blood. The wound is deep. She teases fragments of cloth from the puncture and heals it from the inside out.

Loki is staring, mute and ashamed, at what he has done to the god who was given to him by the woman who is glaring at him.

She looks Loki up and down and then reaches to heal the cracked rib and bruised cheek he got on Jotunheim.

Thor is sweating and trembling on the table behind her.

“You will bathe him, dress him warmly, and sit him up in bed. I will bring his supper and you will help him to eat it.”

Loki nods and Frigga leaves.

He crosses the hall quickly to set the hot water running and then returns, tossing his clothes into a corner and reaching to help Thor down from the table.

Thor flinches from him.

“Please,” Loki begs. “Your mother wishes me to help you.”

Loki scoops Thor up in his arms and carries him into the bath. He sets Thor down and leans him against a wall while he bends to tug off Thor's boots.

Loki cries out when he removes the left boot and the foot inside of it is covered in clotted blood.

He lifts his hands to undo Thor's ruined leggings, but Thor stops him and turns away, facing the wall as he unlaces them. He wobbles slightly as he bends to pull them off and Loki stands and takes Thor's hands, setting them on the wall to aid his balance.

“You'll fall. Stay here.”

Loki tugs the leather down and wraps his fingers around Thor's ankles one after the other to urge him to step out of his trousers. When Thor turns to the side, Loki can see the unbroken stripe of sticky black blood that runs all the way from his ribs to his toes.

He pulls Thor's arm around his neck and leads him down into the bath, seating him on the first step and turning off the tap.

The water turns pink and stinks of iron.

Thor still won't look at him. His head is hanging down and his shoulders are curved in as if to ward off a blow.

Loki reaches toward him and Thor's hands fly up between them, palms out.

“I'll wash myself,” Thor says.

Thor scoots away and steps down further into the water, crouching to submerge his head and scrubbing at his face to wake himself up. The water helps to bear his weight, but he feels dizzy. He washes his hair and scrubs the blood from his side. He pulls the plug for the drain and then turns the tap back on to rinse the bloodied water from his skin.

“Stay there,” Loki says after Thor shuts off the faucet.

He climbs down into the empty bath with his arms full of towels and dries off Thor's hair, squeezing it between the fabric. Thor pats his front dry while Loki does his back.

In their room, Loki puts Thor in pajamas and thick woolen stockings and then props him up in bed, piling pillows around him for support. He goes to the closet and gets the pelt he wore at their wedding, laying it over Thor's body, tucking it up under his armpits.

Frigga arrives with supper. She doesn't look at Loki.

She sets the tray on Thor's lap and sits at his side on the edge of the bed.

“How do you feel, sweetheart?” she asks.

“Tired,” Thor says, and his eyes aren't quite synchronized when he blinks.

“Eat,” she says. “You need it. And then sleep.”

Thor nods and she kisses him goodnight.

Loki takes a shaky breath and holds bowls, plates, and cups up for Thor as necessary.

“Thank you,” Thor says, and the words make Loki sick.

To be thanked, still, after everything he's done.

Thor settles down in the bed and closes his eyes. Loki watches him sleep.

Loki had taken the warmth of his new family for granted, but now that he has drawn their ire and chilled their hearts toward him, he understands what he's lost. However out of place he felt in Asgard, he was never once made to feel unwelcome.

It's mid-morning when Thor finally wakes.

Loki tries to explain himself to the beautiful blue eyes that will no longer look at him.

“I thought you would be cruel,” Loki says.

“I thought you would be kind,” Thor murmurs, and Loki makes a strangled sound.

And then Thor feels guilty, for he has just come close to breaking his promise to his mother. Truth can be a kind of cruelty when it's wielded carelessly.

“I'm sorry,” Thor whispers. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

Loki's head drops and Thor tries to think of something to say. He hasn't had much practice speaking to his husband. Loki made a habit of being out or asleep when Thor was in their room.

“You fought beautifully on Jotunheim,” Thor says. “I am sorry I trampled on your victory.”

“Stop apologizing to me.”

“Sorry,” Thor says, and then winces at himself.

Loki laughs.

Thor stares at him. Loki has never laughed when it's been just the two of them. He's only laughed with his brothers.

Loki sees Thor's hands folded over his belly.

“Does it hurt terribly?” Loki whispers.

“It just aches a bit. Like a cramp.”

“I'm sorry,” Loki says.

“It's all right.”

“It really isn't.”

“I've earned myself worse,” Thor shrugs.

“You didn't earn this.”

Thor's stomach growls.

“I'll fetch your breakfast,” Loki says.

The second he's out the door it occurs to him that he's in danger. That every guard will be itching to stick a knife in his ribs. He wonders if he'll make it as far as the kitchens. Surely Frigga will be along to check on Thor eventually. She can bring Thor his breakfast if Loki never makes it back.

But the guards incline their heads to him as they always have.

The cooks in the kitchen smile and ask him how many eggs he'd like.

********* 

Thor thinks of what Laufey said to Loki last night. Vicious hateful things.

He remembers what Loki had said to him just before he ran off to Jotunheim - the words that came so easily but were such a poor fit.

And he realizes they were Laufey's words, falling from the lips of his son on reflex. An ugly inheritance.

He thinks of what Loki said just before he slid the knife under his ribs; confession as accusation.

Laufey made it so that Loki couldn't win - taught him to want what he could never have, and hate what he would always be.

They are both over a hundred years old. Thor wishes Farbauti had given Loki to him at birth. That he might have grown up on Asgard, away from Laufey, and been spared a century of grief. He's glad Loki has brothers who love him at least. And that Byleistr will one day ascend the throne of Jotunheim. The crown will rest on a head that has sense in it at last.

********* 

Loki returns with a huge platter piled high with eggs, bacon, toast, pastries, and fruit.

Thor smiles and pats his lap and Loki sets the small feast down on it. Loki fetches flatware and a glass of water and returns to perch on the edge of the bed.

“Did you eat downstairs?” Thor asks.

“No.”

“Good,” Thor says, setting his fork down at the edge of the dish by Loki's hand. “You can help me with this. If I eat it all by myself I'll rupture something.”

Loki nods and grazes on Thor's eggs and bacon while Thor eats an apple.

And it's the most intimate thing they've ever done. Sharing a fork. Over a year of marriage under their belts. Loki feels like an idiot. His heart is jogging in his chest because they're using the same silverware.

Still, progress is progress. And he wasn't murdered on his way to fetch breakfast, which strikes him as something of a miracle.

Oh, Loki realizes.

She didn't tell anyone.

When they've finished their breakfast, Loki slides off the edge of the bed and gathers up their dishes.

“I'm going to ask Frigga to have a look at your belly,” Loki says, and Thor nods, drowsy from the massive meal.

Loki hands the platter off to a page in the hall and makes his way to the queen's quarters.

The door opens of its own accord when he knocks.

Everything within is made of dark wood. Looms line the walls, bearing weavings in varying states of completion.

There's an entry to a sitting room straight ahead and Loki can see Frigga seated on a sofa within, waiting for him.

She tips her head, motioning to the empty spot beside her, and he sits.

“You told no one,” Loki says, brow furrowed and head slightly bowed.

“Aye.”

“Why? I don't deserve it.”

“That's not true,” she says softly. “Though I didn't do it solely for your benefit.”

Loki looks up and meets her eyes. He finds no anger in them. And it's incomprehensible to him.

“It would wound Thor to have the whole realm think ill of you,” she explains. “And he has felt the failure of your marriage keenly. It would shame him to have your hatred of him so widely known. He can barely meet my eyes anymore, and that's almost more than I can take. It would be unbearable to have all of Asgard wondering whether he had done something to earn your anger. Thor is many things, but cruel is not one of them.”

Loki nods.

“Will you come and have a look at him?” Loki asks. “He says it aches a bit.”

“That's normal, but yes, I'll come,” she says, rising and looking at him expectantly.

He shakes himself and offers his arm.

When she smiles and takes it he feels like he could float away.

“Good morning,” Thor says, smiling from his pile of fur and pillows, and Frigga bends to kiss his forehead before pressing her cheek to the same spot to check for fever.

When she's satisfied that he is free from infection, she sits and tosses her head toward the foot of the bed.

Thor pushes the blankets down and pulls up his shirt.

Loki cranes his neck to see what has become of Thor's belly.

Just a faint pink line below the last rib on his left side.

Frigga presses on it lightly and Thor scowls at her and grunts.

She snorts and pushes on the rib above it. Thor is unaffected.

“The bone is fine. The rest is simply stiff. You'll have to stretch it when you finally decide to crawl out of bed.”

Thor narrows his eyes.

Frigga leans over and kisses him.

He grabs her and rasps his stubble all over her face while she shouts and pulls on his ears until he relents.

“If you weren't healing, I'd have you hanging over the balcony by the hair,” she says, grabbing a handful of his rumpled blond locks and shaking them before turning them back at his face and tickling his nose until he sneezes.

He groans at the pinch under his ribs.

“Don't trifle with me, child,” she warns.

He smirks.

“One of these days, Mother, when you're walking through a busy hall, I'll set Mjolnir on the train of your skirt and leave you there.”

“I can't decide whether your father would punish you or reward you for it,” she admits, and they laugh. “Rest. And then stretch, or you'll get no pity for your pain.”

He nods and thanks her and then she leaves them.

Thor rolls onto his side and uses gravity to get himself out of bed.

“Where are you going?” Loki asks, darting over and blocking Thor's way.

“Lavatory.”

“Oh, of course,” Loki murmurs. “Do you need help?”

“No,” Thor laughs, “But thank you all the same.”

Thor returns and climbs back into bed.

“Shall we nap?” Loki asks.

“You don't need to let your time go to waste as well. I'll be goldbricking for another day or two.”

“I have nowhere to go,” Loki shrugs, climbing on top of the covers.

“What have you done with yourself all these months?” Thor murmurs, not really expecting an answer.

Loki takes a deep breath and his lips part, but he says nothing. Instead, a thousand different forms flash over his own – old, young, men, women. He splinters into a flock of sparrows and a school of fish.

Thor recognizes them all. He has sparred with all the young men. Nodded politely to the ladies. He has seen the birds and fish on walks and swims.

“Your grandfather was Ljosalfar,” Thor murmurs, for their kind are peerless shape-shifters.

“Aye.”

“Have you found him?”

“No, though I've never looked. I know not whether he still lives. And I don't have his name – Grandmother needed her secrets - but I do have his face,” Loki says, sorting through the necklaces hanging at his breast and opening one of the pendants. There's a tiny enameled portrait hidden inside. Loki leans over and holds it out for Thor.

The elf's visage is like a softer version of Loki's, and his hair falls in long gold waves.

“He could be our son,” Thor whispers, wide-eyed.

“I know. I got quite a shock when I first saw your face. I thought time had curled in on itself.”

“I can imagine,” Thor nods.

They nap, lunch, and nap some more.

By supper, Thor is wide awake and restless.

“Where are you going?” Loki asks, as Thor slides off the mattress.

“Need to stretch my legs. Thought I'd fetch us some supper.”

Loki climbs from the bed, straightening his clothes, fixing his hair, and slipping his boots on before offering Thor his arm.

They end up eating in the dining hall and chatting about all the injuries they've acquired in their long and foolish young lives.

How Loki refused to accept that he was smaller than his brothers and wrestled with them as though the fight was fair. He'd be covered in bruises by the end of it and Byleistr and Helblindi would swear up and down that that was the end of it, absolutely the last time they'd play so roughly with him. But then Loki would sulk. And whine. And weep. And finally he'd do something designed to draw their ire and they'd lose their tempers and give him the unreserved thrashing he wanted, ignoring his size and battling him as their equal, and even broken bones couldn't make Loki love it any less.

Thor confesses all the suicidal sins he committed as an adolescent in an effort to escape their impending marriage and punish his father.

Loki wants to see the sea serpent's scales. Thor tells him he already has, for they hang over the fireplace in their room. Loki's eyes go wide. The things are easily a dozen feet long. Loki had always assumed they were some strange Asgardian whalebone.

When the princes return to their room for the night, the guards grin and scowl at each other in the halls behind them. The warriors are all centuries older than Thor: wise enough to expect that a political marriage would take time to settle. The stubborn spouses are finally speaking to each other in public. The guards who wagered it would take over a year for the lads to warm to each other are the winners. There were many who thought it would take far less, arguing that no one would be able to keep their hands off of Thor for that long. Then they saw Loki strutting through the halls every day, and they knew they'd be kissing their coins goodbye.

Thor turns to the bath when they get upstairs and Loki stops in the hall.

“May I join you?”

“I need it hot.”

“I know. I can wear this skin.”

Thor nods and goes off to set the water running, dumping his clothes down a chute.

Loki strips and follows him into the bath.

“You should stretch,” Loki says and Thor sighs and nods.

He throws his left arm over his head and slowly leans to his right. Puts his hands on the back wall of the bath and walks them down behind him, arching over backwards and grimacing. Stands up straight and turns back and forth at the waist.

Loki just watches him. When he can't take it any more, he walks up behind Thor and puts his hand on his side, slowly sliding it around under Thor's right arm.

Thor goes completely still. He can feel Loki's breath on the back of his neck, warm and humid.

Loki pulls Thor against him a bit more.

“Relax,” Loki murmurs, and his left hand alights on the scar from the knife.

Thor nods and leans back, letting his muscles go slack and his head sag onto Loki's shoulder as Loki's fingers press in on the tight tissue in his side.

Loki lets his own head fall forward, resting his lips on the curve where Thor's neck meets his shoulder, and Thor's lungs fill with air.

Loki keeps kneading Thor's muscles and Thor wonders how much Loki can see from this perspective. He hopes the odd angle and the depth of the water are obscuring his erection.

Loki shifts, leaning back and pulling Thor tighter against his chest, and Thor can feel Loki's cock pressed against his ass.

Thor takes another sharp breath and Loki hums against his neck while his fingers continue to stretch the new tissue under the scar.

Ten minutes later Thor feels Loki sigh against him before giving a few probing prods to his injury and then slowly moving Thor forward, lifting his lips away from Thor's neck.

“There,” Loki murmurs. “How does it feel now?”

Thor feels bereft, but he twists and stretches and pushes on the spot.

“Much better,” Thor says, nodding. “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me,” Loki laughs. “I'm the one who put it there. It was the least I could do.”

They finish their bath, but they're still half hard when the water drains.

They return to their room and when Thor goes to put on pajamas, Loki stops him.

“Don't,” Loki says, and Thor looks at him, confused. “Did you ever wear them before we married?”

“No,” Thor admits.

Loki straightens the blankets and motions Thor into the bed.

Thor climbs in and fidgets.

“Not tired?” Loki asks.

“Not really.”

“You should rest, though.”

“I know,” Thor says.

“I'll read us to sleep,” Loki offers, and Thor nods, for his husband's voice is pleasant, even when it's hissing at him.

Loki wanders over to Thor's bookshelf and pulls something down. When he climbs into bed Thor can see it's an old book of poetry and he gets nervous. They'll be safe for the first thirty five pages and then the author's attention will turn to sex and will not divert.

Perhaps Loki will dislike it and won't make it farther than a page or two before he looks for another book, Thor prays.

But Loki does like it, and he doesn't stop until the book is finished. They both sit there with the blankets awkwardly tented over their hips.

Loki clears his throat.

“Where did you get this book?”

“My mother gave it to me,” Thor sighs, and drags his hands over his face. “She said she had already memorized them all so she didn't need it anymore.”

Loki chuckles and Thor groans.

“They're marvelous,” Loki says.

“Aye.”

Loki climbs from the bed and returns the book to the shelf.

Thor can see Loki's cock bobbing in the air in front of him and light reflecting off of the damp spots between his thighs. His belly clenches.

“Do you have any others like that one?” Loki asks, perusing the shelf.

“Aye.”

“Hmmm. Perhaps we can read a new one tomorrow night.”

Thor doesn't know what to say to that.

He's still not certain Loki isn't just torturing him again, as he has all year.

But he remembers how Loki put his hands on him in the bath. And how Loki was as hard as he was.

“Does it hurt?” Loki asks as he climbs back into bed.

It takes Thor a second to realize Loki is talking about his injury, not his erection.

“No. It's been better since the bath.”

Loki nods and sits beside Thor, his arms wrapped around his knees.

Twenty minutes later he still hasn't moved.

“What's wrong?” Thor murmurs. “Can't sleep?”

Loki huffs and looks back over his shoulder.

“I've twisted, abused, and neglected our marriage,” Loki says quietly. “Fed it nothing but lies and hate.”

“You have every right. It is as much yours as mine.”

“No. I had no right. You showed me kindness and I repaid you with cruelty.”

“It was Laufey's dowry,” Thor says, grimacing.

“Yes, but Farbauti and my brothers taught me better. I was never unloved. I've dishonored them.”

“You are in no one's debt,” Thor says. “Do only as you wish.”

Loki falls back onto his pillow with a sigh.

“That's easier said than done.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Thor smiles, and Loki hums.

In the morning, Thor wakes to find the blankets pushed down to his navel and a cool finger tracing the scar under his ribs. He peeks to his left and sees Loki propped up on his elbow, watching him.

“G'morning,” Thor slurs, and Loki smiles.

“Good morning,” Loki says. “Take a deep breath.”

Thor does.

“Any pain?” Loki asks.

“No.”

Loki climbs down the bed and rests his hands on Thor's knees through the furs.

“Try to pull yourself up to sitting without using your arms.”

Thor nods and follows the instruction.

“Any discomfort?”

“No,” Thor says, flopping back down with a happy grunt.

Loki returns to his post by Thor's side.

“Hungry?” Loki asks.

“Not yet. It's barely past dawn. I could probably still doze for a bit if I tried.”

Loki hums and goes back to petting the scar on Thor's flank with one cool fingertip.

Thor watches.

Loki's finger starts to wander, tracing the ribs on Thor's left side.

And then the ones on the right.

And then it follows Thor's sternum up and draws his collarbones. His neck. His ears.

Thor closes his eyes so that Loki can touch the lids. Opens his mouth so that Loki can tap the tops of his teeth.

Loki dips his finger in and drags it across Thor's tongue, and Thor can taste salt. And then the fingertip is on his right nipple, rubbing it until it puckers.

Loki reaches across to Thor's arm and pulls, urging him onto his side.

Thor rolls to face him and Loki presses the tips of their noses together in a playful hello and Thor smiles – his real smile: loose and goofy and crooked. Loki smirks and darts his head forward to kiss him, their lips clumsy and distracted by their grinning. But they keep at it and it keeps getting better. Their lips relax and fit together. The wetness of their tongues yields weird and wonderful little sounds.

Thor feels Loki's left thigh slide up over his hip and they both gasp when their cocks brush together and press, wet and insistent, against their bellies.

And then Loki is wriggling up the bed a little and reaching down to slide back Thor's foreskin. He wipes his hand between his thighs and then spreads the wetness onto Thor's cock before guiding the head into his quim. Thor moans at the warmth and tightness. The fit.

And Loki is so wet.

Soaking.

Wanting.

His slim hips are rocking slightly.

Thor reaches to push on Loki's behind, driving him farther down onto his cock.

Their kisses have trailed off into wet brushes of parted lips. Thor pecks Loki's cheek and buries his nose in the black hair past his temple.

They hear the brief puffs of breath, like the little roar in a conch, ghosting over the shells of their ears.

And then instinct rouses from its long slumber and saves them, driving Thor's hips forward in a lovely rhythm while Loki starts moaning and humming, egging Thor on.

When Loki's limbs start to stiffen, Thor has enough sense to know that means don't change a thing.

And then Loki is wailing and bucking and their bellies are drenched. Little muscles tremble and clench around Thor's cock and he presses Loki tight against him and gasps, spilling into him in waves.

They lie there catching their breaths and sweating, and it should be awkward and uncomfortable, but they've both wanted it for so long that they can't see why anyone would ever wish to move. Can't imagine how the realms haven't fallen to ruin because no one ever makes it out of bed after sex.

They fall asleep and wake up ravenous. And reeking. And then it makes sense.

They bathe hastily and all but run to the dining hall, wolfing down their breakfast and rushing straight back to their bedroom.

They have a little more patience with each go.

Loki is all tendon and bone. His body honed by chill and distance. Muscle wrapped tight around his frame. Minimal. Sleek. Precise. Thor wants to know all of its limits. Memorize every movement it's capable of.

Thor's body is extravagant. Loki loses whole hours to the novelty of it. How Thor's muscles swell around the bone in bold curves. How the transitions between them are blurred by a thin layer of fat. The wealth of his flesh. The warmth. The dusting of gold hair that catches the light and makes Loki want to wear his jewelry to bed in friendly competition.

Sometimes he does, and Thor's fingers follow the arcs of the chains over his body as the charms make lovely jingling sounds in time with Loki's bouncing.

They love the way sex bleeds humors from them. The strange cost of it, always paid in water. Sweat and semen. Tears. The beads of fluid that serve as a prelude to seed. The slow clear stream that seeps from Loki's cunny, easing the way for Thor's cock, or tongue, or fingers. Evidence. Testament. Proof. Of pleasure they can't deny or hide.

And it rains - Thor's sympathy with the sky sending their sex spilling down over the realm.

Eventually Odin has to intervene, casting a spell to send Thor's storms out over the sea and spare the city from floods.

In late spring they finally have the restraint to leave their rooms for more than meals.

They walk the realm together, talking of textures and colors and pausing to drink in the scents drifting down from the trees.

When they pass the well and see the Norns, they bow long and low.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I can't disable commenting. If I could, I would. Please pretend that I have.


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